Chapter 47: Indentured Servants

Thanks to the tireless efforts of the Qiwei Escort Agency, the mills were staffed. It was late in the season, and the most skilled sugar masters had long been hired, leaving them with the dregs—the old, the young, the inexperienced. But at least the mills were operational. Wen Tong instructed all five of his mills to offer a reduced processing fee of thirty percent, a move designed to attract small-scale farmers and increase their supply of raw sugar. He also ordered them to buy up any and all sugar products—raw sugar, sugar bricks, even the molasses.

“And the bagasse!” Wen Tong shouted excitedly to Wen Xiu and Wen Qing, who now served as his messengers. The two literate, Mandarin-speaking brothers had become his de facto secretaries, their faces tanned by the Leizhou sun as they raced across the countryside delivering his orders. Wen Tong wrote daily letters to his new mill managers, issuing a stream of instructions and demanding regular reports. To facilitate this, Liao Dahua had purchased a fleet of sedan chairs and hired a team of bearers.

Recruiting temporary labor for the fields proved more difficult. Harvest season sent wages skyrocketing, and their late start meant most of the available hands had already been hired. Wen Tong had no choice but to wait for reinforcements from Guangzhou.

The first contingent of two hundred was being prepared. He had wanted more, but the dilapidated state of the plantation housing made it impossible. The existing structures were in desperate need of repair, and new kitchens and latrines had to be built. Food, water, even cooking pots had to be procured. In the 17th century, providing for so many was a monumental task, demanding a hands-on approach to every detail.

Fortunately, the Qiwei Escort Agency proved invaluable. Liao Dahua handled everything, from hiring craftsmen and procuring food to dealing with the local bureaucracy.

In Guangzhou, Zhang Xin tasked Sun Chang with organizing the first wave of immigrants. The reports from Xuwen had painted a grim picture of the primitive conditions awaiting them. They would be harvesting sugarcane, yes, but also performing a myriad of other tasks. Sun Chang, therefore, selected only young, able-bodied men, free of disease. He also insisted on choosing men with families, rejecting all single men.

“Why?” Zhang Xin asked, puzzled.

“The conditions in Leizhou are harsh,” Sun Chang explained. “Unattached men might flee at the first sign of trouble. That would be a waste of our efforts. Men with families are more… stable.”

“You are very thorough,” Zhang Xin said, impressed by the foresight of the former house slave.

“It is not that I am thorough,” Sun Chang replied, “but in my service to Master Gao, though I was but a lowly servant, I observed much of how men are hired and managed. I am familiar with the pitfalls.”

Sun Chang had Guo Yi visit the governor’s yamen, where, for one hundred taels of silver, they obtained a travel permit from the aide-de-camp, Lü Yizhong. Though the immigrants would travel by boat, they would inevitably have to pass through towns and villages after landing. An official document would smooth their passage. The immigrants were organized into a military-style formation, with leaders appointed at every level. Each man carried his own bedding, utensils, and a five-day supply of rations.

The plan was to sail from Guangzhou to Haian, then march to Xuwen, where they would be assigned to one of the nine sugarcane plantations.

The Qiwei Escort Agency made preparations along the route, setting up a relay system of guides and rest stops that provided boiled water and steamed buns. In the more desolate stretches, cooking teams would build fires to boil water and heat their rations. They were forbidden from drinking unboiled water, and lodging was arranged for every night. Escorted by the Qiwei men, armed with their official document and their own staffs and knives, they traveled unmolested through the turbulent roads of Leizhou. They reached Xuwen in less than two days, in excellent condition, without a single case of illness or injury. After a brief rest, they were ready for work.

Wen Tong dispersed the two hundred men to the various plantations. They lived in hastily repaired thatched huts, but the warm climate of Leizhou spared them from the cold. They were immediately put to work harvesting sugarcane. Following Wen Tong’s orders, a steady supply of rice, vegetables, and meat was purchased from the local villages to ensure they were well-fed. Harvesting cane was grueling work; a poorly fed man would quickly lose his strength and his will to stay.

After the first group had settled in and worked for a fortnight, with morale stable, Guangzhou sent the second batch—the wives and children of the men who had come before. The women were primarily tasked with logistical support, cooking and mending clothes.

In the end, some four hundred men, women, and children were transported from Guangzhou and settled on the plantations as long-term laborers—in reality, indentured servants. Each had signed a contract acknowledging a debt of fifty taels of silver to the Zi Corporation, to be repaid with their labor. Guo Yi believed this model would curb the tendency of some refugees to flee after being fed.

The refugee recruitment policy had been successful at first, when the turnover to Lingao was swift. Starving people were happy to go anywhere for work and food. But as the transport slowed and the camps in Guangzhou swelled, the refugees, their strength restored, began to have second thoughts. The prospect of being sent to Hainan, a place far from their ancestral homes, bred a desire to escape. They had come to Guangzhou to avoid starvation; now, with spring approaching, some began to slip away. The Guangzhou station was helpless. They lacked the manpower to guard them, and they feared the escapes would become a trend. Guo Yi and his colleagues came to a grim conclusion: the carrot was not enough. They needed a stick.

To stem the tide of escapes, in addition to intensifying their propaganda efforts, Guo Yi received permission from the Executive Committee to implement a system of indentured servitude. All refugees had to sign a contract, borrowing money for their food, clothing, and shelter. In return, they would serve the Zi Corporation for at least seven years. Their food was provided, and they were paid wages. At the end of their term, the contract would be returned, with no additional redemption fee.

With this contract, Guo Yi could now legally use the power of the Guangzhou government to control them. The common people, with their deep-seated fear of authority, dared not flee. The policy proved brutally effective after he used Liang Cunhou’s name to report a dozen escaped refugees to the Nanhai county yamen. Each was given forty to eighty strokes of the cane, a punishment that effectively extinguished any thought of escape. For many, the idea of returning to their hometowns to eat bran and pay rent began to lose its appeal. If they had to work the land, wasn’t it better to work for a master like Patron Guo, who provided food and new clothes?

After a month of relentless effort, the sugar industry in Haikang and Xuwen was finally on track. Though some batches of sugar were ruined by inexperienced masters, the overall operation was stable. Raw sugar was being produced continuously and transported, along with the molasses and bagasse, to the central plantation in Xuwen. Liao Dahua had acquired more land, extending the plantation to the riverbank. If they couldn’t get steam or diesel engines, they would use water power for the presses.

Wen Tong planned to build a model plantation and a modern sugar factory here. He named it the South China Model Sugar Factory, in honor of the first modern sugar factory in Xuwen. He named the other four mills after the shareholders of that historic factory: Guoxin, Qichong, Zhi’an, and Qiwen. For now, these mills would continue to use the old methods, with technical improvements to follow once the model factory was running.

The South China Model Sugarcane Plantation became home to nearly one hundred and fifty immigrants. Chang Shide, knowing nothing of agriculture, became the administrator of civil affairs. He went from plantation to plantation, registering households, establishing grassroots organizations, and appointing village chiefs. Following the principle of universal military service, he established a militia—or “village braves,” as they were known locally. They were armed with swords, spears, bows, and even matchlock guns from Lingao. Under the guidance of the escorts, they trained in their spare time. Wen Tong didn’t expect them to become a professional fighting force, but he needed them to be able to defend themselves. Though he and Chang Shide were skeptical of their loyalty, the security situation left them no choice. The Qiwei Escort Agency could not possibly protect nine properties in two counties.

“We can only hope they will fight for themselves,” Chang Shide said. “They have food, clothing, and their families are reunited. They should be willing to protect their homes.”

“If they consider this place their home,” Wen Tong replied, his pessimism undiminished.

“The two managers worry too much,” Liao Dahua said reassuringly. “They have food and shelter, the climate is warm—it’s a good place. And they have met benevolent masters like you. What more could these refugees ask for?”

“Let’s hope so,” Wen Tong said, gazing at the scattered, African-style thatched huts. “After this harvest, we will build new houses for all the plantations, to the standard B-type design.”

“The investment is too large,” Chang Shide protested. He had seen the B-type housing in Bopu—they were fortresses.

“The sugar factory will be our cash cow,” Wen Tong insisted. “To establish a foothold in Leizhou, we need to be able to defend ourselves.” His next step was to improve the technology. That was the only way to make his South China Sugar Factory worthy of its name.

He had two priorities: producing white sugar and increasing the yield of raw sugar. He knew several methods for making white sugar, but without modern equipment, he was limited to the traditional method described in the Tiangong Kaiwu, using yellow mud as an adsorbent. This “yellow mud” was likely a porous clay. He reasoned that other materials, like activated carbon or diatomaceous earth, could also work, but producing them here was impossible.

Increasing the raw sugar yield was a simpler matter. The wooden rollers of the mills extracted no more than 40% of the juice, a tremendous waste. Modern factories achieved at least 70%.

He decided to start with white sugar. The profit margin was higher.

He didn’t bother with exotic adsorbents. Yellow mud was readily available. He had the raw sugar melted down and poured into an earthenware funnel plugged with straw. Once the sugar had solidified, the straw was removed. Chang Shide had several loads of pure yellow mud brought in, which was mixed with water to create a slurry. After letting it settle, Wen Tong scooped the solution from the top layer and poured it, spoonful by spoonful, into the funnel.

“This is a strange method,” Chang Shide said, skeptical. “Pouring yellow mud on brown sugar to make it white? It just looks… dirty.”